


Claire's Birthday Ficlets

by gotham_ruaidh



Series: Gotham's non-"Imagine" writings [1]
Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 09:13:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5042551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gotham_ruaidh/pseuds/gotham_ruaidh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Micro-ficlets in celebration of Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp Randall Fraser's birthday</p>
            </blockquote>





	Claire's Birthday Ficlets

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to the wonderful readers who submitted the prompts on [my tumblr blog!](http://gotham-ruaidh.tumblr.com) Happy Birthday Claire!

**chrismosstree** : Young Ian

 

“Please don’t tell me you intend that raccoon to be our supper tonight.”

“Ach, no, Auntie – only, I mind what Brianna told me once, about raccoon hats for bairns. Thought I could use one of your wee knives to make one for Oggy.”

 

 

 **labyrinthmr** : Ghost

 

“What’s this? It’s the middle of the night – can ye no’ bother yer own parents?”

Claire held a trembling Mandy close as Jem spoke with exaggerated patience. “She saw a ghost outside, and I ken ye’ve got a sword and dirk – can ye maybe scare it away?”

 

 

 **st-teresa-of-avila** : Impetuous

 

“Were you this impetuous at Bree’s age, Claire?”

 _No, Frank¸_ she replied silently. _But I’m sure her father was_.

 

“Looks like you’re re-reading the good parts again, Lady Jane.”

Claire looked up from the battered copy of _The Impetuous Pirate_. “Well – Valdez is certainly enthusiastic, even if he clearly doesn’t know the first thing about properly satisfying a woman.”

 

 

 **mebertolini** : Flawless

 

Claire, exhausted, beamed in a smile as she watched Jamie carefully trace Faith’s flawless newborn features.

 

 

 **brandeewine** : Surgeon

 **escayna** : Surgical

 

There was a rhythm, predictability, almost normality to it – scrubbing with lye soap to the elbows, carefully setting out freshly-sterilized instruments, ensuring there was sufficient daylight or candlelight to perform the procedure. But no matter how diligently she prepared, how many times she’d performed this procedure, both now and then – nothing could be normal when it was Jamie lying on the table.

 

 

 **dingbatland** : Unknown

 

It wasn’t fear of the unknown that kept Jamie up at night – but fear of a life without her, and of her living a life without him.

 

 

 **ipalecollectorpoetry** : Flame

 

Jamie ran the blade back and forth until it was blackened by the flame – just as Claire had shown him – before cutting into the pheasant he’d snared near the mouth of the cave.

 

 

 **notevenjokingrightnow** : Provocative

 

Claire delicately trailed one finger in the pool of honey on her dessert plate and slowly brought it to her tongue – meeting Jamie’s burning gaze across Jocasta’s dining table.

 

**lianaofrome:** Rugby

 

“It was so much fun, Grandmere!” Germain grinned, brushing dried leaves off his tattered breeches.

“I see. And how exactly did you lose that tooth?”

The boy shrugged. “Jem elbowed me in the face, but Uncle Roger said that’s normal when playing the rugby. Then Grandpere knocked him over, so that must be the truth.”

 

 

 **tara-58** : Faithful

 **omgturtlesoup** : Fidellity

 

“…and then there’s St. Monica, the patron saint of marrit women. She prayed 30 years for the conversion of her pagan husband.”

Claire settled closer against Jamie’s shoulder, curling her fingers in the hollow of his chest. Quietly, softly, he traced the worn pattern of her silver ring.

“It’s been 35 years for us – you haven’t yet converted me to your Highland ways.”

He smiled into her hair. “Well, ye both chose to stay marrit to yer husbands. That’s faithfulness, aye?”

She snorted. “Or stupidity.”

He kissed her forehead. “Or love.”

 

 **Anon 1** : Christmas

 

Mandy burst into tears when her grandfather dragged a deer carcass into the kitchen on the day before Christmas. “You killed one of Santa’s wain-deer!” she wailed into her mother’s apron, as Brianna glared daggers at Jamie.

 

 **Anon 2** : Humble

 

“Ye spent weeks dancing like a trained bear while she dressed as a – as a _man_ – and sang bawdy songs?”

Murtagh looked down and brushed a piece of lint from his kilt. “We did what we had to, lad.”

 

**myaccueill** : Enigmatic

 

She was such a mystery – even now, quietly dreaming in his arms in the relative safety of their room at Leoch. _“What goes on in that bonny head of yours?”_ he whispered in the Gaidhlig, gently tucking a loose curl behind her ear. “ _Will ye ever let me in?”_

 

 

 **Anon 3:** Advice

 

“What else can I do?”

Claire followed Roger’s wary gaze to the dooryard, where Brianna still argued with one of the MacGillivray lads over the shoddy workmanship of the muskets.

She sighed. “Let her tire herself out – then get her to hit something – then take her to bed. She’s her father’s daughter, through and through.”

 

 

 **Anon 4** : Sleeping

 

Ian shivered, watching his uncle hold his sleeping aunt across the campfire, praying to the Catholic God and the Mohawk gods and anyone else who may be listening that Rachel could be his.

**lenny9987** : Conspicuous

 

Jamie craned his neck, scanning the crowd massed on River Run’s great lawn – ah. She may have tried to pin it back, but there was no mistaking those wild curls.

**iwanttodriveyouthroughthenight** : Dress

 

The other men focused on her shimmering dress (and on her chest), but Jamie’s eyes locked with hers – grounding her, giving her strength, reassuring her that she did not have to go through this day alone.

 

 

 **Anon 5** : Nightmare

Jamie woke to an image of Randall’s sneer - and settled at the sight of Claire’s dreaming face across the pillow.

 

 

 **suhailauniverse** : Endure

Jamie’s weathered, scarred, four-fingered hand squeezed Claire’s knee, listening intently as Roger preached the merits of self-sacrifice.


End file.
